


things you said that made me feel real

by deandratb



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 20:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17753126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deandratb/pseuds/deandratb
Summary: Prompt fic; three moments in time that meant everything.





	things you said that made me feel real

**Author's Note:**

> For [beturass](beturass.tumblr.com). Prompt: **things you said that made me feel real**

_“I couldn’t do this without you.”_

She isn’t sure what to do when faced with an ancient-looking book about skiing instead of any of the Christmas gifts she actually asked for, but luckily Donna’s parents raised her with classic Midwestern manners, so she recovers quickly and offers him a polite, if baffled, smile.

He tells her there’s an inscription, which at least gives her a reason to crack the book’s weathered spine. As soon as she starts reading, she realizes the inscription is the real gift. Josh isn’t a writer like Sam or Toby, but he always says what he means, and she’s in the middle of her workday trying not to tear up.

She needed this job; not just to pay bills and get out of a college town that was drowning in bittersweet memories, but for herself. Her relationship turned out to be a tragedy, she’d loved her classes but never managed to find a major that really fit, and now she was on her own without even a degree to show for it. She had to be good at  **something.**

And it turned out she was really good at this, the White House--working for Josh in particular. They clicked right away, no matter how much he whined about getting his own coffee or insisted on messing up her careful organization of his desk. She’s an excellent assistant to the Deputy COS.

But knowing that doesn’t quiet the doubts, the voice in her head that likes to remind her where she came from and how unqualified she is to be here. In the Bartlet Administration she’s surrounded by the smartest people she has ever met...and she’s picking up their lunch orders and answering the phone.

One sentence in the middle of Josh’s scrawled handwriting jumps out at her and nestles itself deep in her heart.  _“I couldn’t do this without you,”_  it says, before thanking her for all her hard work this year.

As silly as it might be, the idea that Leo’s right hand man needs her makes her want to cry. All she wanted was to find her place, and make a difference, and now here she is. Getting a gift like this from him.

Josh wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true, she thinks, hugging him and not caring what it looks like. His face is pressed into her shoulder, breathing her in, and Donna has to crack a joke to break the moment.

Anything to cover up how much she doesn’t want to let go.

****

_“Stay with me.”_

Josh is in and out of consciousness in his hospital bed, voice weak but smile genuine whenever he sees her. 

Of course Donna has work she should be doing, she knows that things are busier than ever since the shooting, and with Josh out of commission she feels a greater responsibility to keep his office running smoothly--but she’s still by his side more than anyone else, juggling administrative duties with cafeteria runs that he doesn’t even appreciate.

Nobody says anything about her using the hospital as a second office, though Margaret watches her carefully and Carol shoots her sympathetic glances whenever she leaves the White House. Her friends know her well enough not to worry out loud; it would just make it harder on so many levels.

He almost died. 

She still sees him through that observation window when she closes her eyes, blood-covered and surrounded by surgical staff. The nightmares are worse, a million variations where he dies on the table, or Toby never finds him and he dies trying to hold himself together in Rosslyn, or he falls into a coma and never wakes up again.

But warring with the anxiety Donna feels over almost losing him is a not-insignificant amount of guilt over feeling as anxious as she does. It’s disproportionate to the nature of their relationship, and makes as little sense as her certainty that the more time she spends with him, the safer he’ll be.

If she talked to somebody about it, she knows they would point out the obvious: she wasn’t there, when the bullet found Josh. She wasn’t with him, he got hurt, therefore being with him might mean he won’t get hurt. It’s childish logic but she’s clinging to it anyway. And she’s telling no one, because that would mean admitting how much she cares and he’s her boss and she knows the way they would look at her then, how they would act.

It’s bad enough he almost died alone. She refuses to lose him for any other reason.

In the antiseptic quiet of his new room, Josh reaches for her on the first day they’ve moved him out of the ICU. Donna’s tidying the stack of forms she brought with her and packing them up--she jumps a little when he grips her wrist.

"You’re awake.”

“Mm. You’re leaving? You just got here.”

It’s been three hours, she stops herself from pointing out. His eyes are half-shut against the medication they’re using to fight the pain, and she doesn’t have the heart to correct him.

“I have to get these back to the office,” she says instead. 

Josh blinks against the fatigue. “Margaret’s sending someone later,” he remembers out loud. “Leo needs...something. Don’t remember what. You could pass them back then.”

It would be too easy to fall into a rhythm of never leaving, Donna thinks. Just phone calls to the West Wing and messenger service and a laptop. That’s not what her job is supposed to be. 

His fingers flex against her skin, getting her attention. “It’ll all be there tomorrow,” he says quietly.

Josh is right about that part. She can count on the work to still be there tomorrow. 

It’s a miracle that he’s still here today.

Donna nods to herself, and smiles at him, disentangling her arm from his grasp. “All right,” she says, setting her bag back down. “Want to watch TV? Or I can read you the paper.”

“My head hurts,” he admits, laying back against the pillow. “I don’t care what we do. Just...please. Stay with me.”

She stays late and falls asleep at an awkward angle in the chair next to him, an hour after he does. The nurses have to kick her out in the morning.

****

_“It’s going to be okay.”_

When Josh opens his door and finds Donna standing there, crutches in hand, he blinks at her blankly for several seconds before he finds any words. His hair is sticking up a little; she’s pretty sure he fell asleep on his couch again.

“Donna?”

“Hi.”

“What...” He rubs his eyes. “You know it’s 1 o’clock in the morning, right?”

If she didn’t, his shorts and thin white tank top would have tipped her off. She lifts a shoulder. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Brow furrowed, Josh steps back. She brushes past him on her way to his kitchen and he trails after. “Everything okay?”

“What have you got to drink in here?” Donna’s already opening the fridge while she asks. She surveys the contents critically, ignoring his question.

“Not much. You came to raid my beer?”

“I was hoping for something stronger.” With a sigh, she grabs a bottle anyway and takes it to his living room, sinking onto the couch before she opens it.

“You know, if you’re in the mood for a drink, they have these places called bars...”

“The last place I want to be is a bar right now,” Donna replies. 

“But you wanted to be here in my apartment at 1 a.m.?”

“Josh, you know that thing you do where you get drunk and show up at my place in the middle of the night and sleep it off?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you owe me one.”

He moves her crutches out of the way and joins her on the couch, trying to decipher her tone. “I’m not saying I mind. You just don’t do this often. Or ever. In the last six years.”

Donna sips her beer and doesn’t respond, watching as Josh huffs out a breath and drags a hand through his hair.

“Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” She swallows hard. “Everything.”

“Is your physical therapist giving you a hard time? Because you know I’m ready to--”

“To what? Snark him to death?”

Her words come out sharp, and she knows she doesn’t sound like herself, but she can’t take them back. That’s been happening more and more lately, Donna thinks as Josh stares. Blurting out the words on the tip of her tongue, kicking herself for not being able to hold them back, not knowing how to apologize for things she  **was**  thinking--whether they’re appropriate or not.

She’s just so tired. 

“It’s not physical therapy,” she admits, staring at the bottle in her hand instead of at him. “It’s all of it. The explosion, the hospital, the nightmares. Everybody who means well and checks in seven times a day about how I’m feeling. It’s too much.”

Donna’s voice cracks, and Josh leans over to grab her beer. He takes a drink before setting it aside; the casual familiarity in that makes her smile a little. 

She’s waiting for him to make a joke to lighten the mood. He’s always been good at that. Josh is much better at avoiding heavy feelings than dealing with them, a skill she envies lately since she can’t stop feeling crushed by the weight of hers.

It’s surprising when he turns toward her instead, his dark eyes serious as he reaches for her hand and holds it. “You came to the right place.”

She wasn’t actually looking for sympathy when she found herself heading his way, Donna thinks. A comfortable place to get numb, where even if she can’t sleep--and lately she’s barely sleeping at all--at least she won’t be alone. Faced with his sincerity, she feels the tears come against her will. 

Josh pulls her against his chest as soon as they start falling, shifts so that her ear is resting right above his heart. “I was where you are, remember?” He whispers against her cheek. “I’ve still got the scars.”

It’s only been four years, of course she remembers. She can still taste the fear that soured the back of her throat when Toby told her. The memory makes her cry harder, all of it mingling together into gulping sobs with Josh’s arms keeping her close. 

Donna would be embarrassed if she had any energy to spare...she shouldn’t be here like this, with him. Especially with him.

But he’s still holding her, grounding her in the moment, and he doesn’t let go. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Josh murmurs, over and over until the tears stop. And as hard as it is to believe right then, she tries. 

Because he’s right, he has been where she is. 

He’s the only one who really has.

And knowing that Josh understands what she can’t find the words for, Donna feels safe for the first time since she woke up in Germany.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by @snookolive, who is awesome.


End file.
